Safe And Sound
by Italian Skunk
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was an excellent hacker, and he had to move, move, move to make sure he remained safe. That comes to an end, however, when Francis Bonnefoy, a rivaling hacker, kidnaps him for his skills. And maybe, later on, for his heart too.


The air was cold and Arthur tightened the scarf around his neck. He was in a hurry, to go home and pack and just get the hell out of there. Out of the city, out of the state, to another country as it didn't matter where he'd go next; he had the money ready at his fingertips.

His boots thudded against the cold, smooth cement, and he wrapped his arms around himself. Arthur knew how close he was to the apartment building where he had been staying for a couple of months. Another corner, down the street, and maybe he'd be safe.

Arthur ran up the steps, throwing open the door. It bounced back against the wall, and he darted down the hallway. Into his room, he fetched the duffle bag from under his bed. A few changes of clothes, his other pair of boots, his money, and into the bookbag he carefully tucked away a thin, silver-shining laptop and its charger. An old, worn, red spiral notebook, a new packet of mechanical Paper Mate pencils, and his cell phone (and its charger!) were also put into the bag. Into his pocket went the hard drive from the desk drawer and a switchblade.

With the apartment picked clean of his most important belongings, minus the guitar as it sat lonely in its stand in the living room, Arthur left.

Only to be yanked into the back of a van as he hurried past an alley.

* * *

><p>It wasn't as bad as Arthur thought it would be.<p>

He sat in silence as ordered, answered when he was questioned (though that went as far as what his name was, to which he said "Arthur," and his age, "Sixteen.") and relieved when they didn't take his stuff. It was because these people weren't the police. They were still his enemies, yes, but a part of him insisted that he was with… friends.

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the right word just yet as he really didn't know who he was dealing with at the moment.

Upon arriving wherever they had stopped, Arthur sat up from where he was leaning into his duffle bag. He was helped out of the van, irritated with the hands holding his shoulder and bound arms. Before the group loomed an old warehouse. It was tucked snugly into the ugly part of a town he didn't know, in the same fitting shade of depression.

Arthur was brought inside, and brought into a large room. It had large windows, ones he had seen from the outside, and a slim, dark desk. Behind it sat a chair, a swivel one he knew and thought it to be empty. The walls to his left and right were lined with shelves of books, a good number of books that his fingers itched to leaf through.

"Why bring me to an empty room?" he grumbled lightly.

"Ah, he's arrived." a voice chirped from behind the chair.

A chill ran up his spine, tickling between his shoulder blades. _ French_, Arthur thought bitterly, _wonderful._ His stomach flipped and put his mind in a buzz.

The thin plastic around Arthur's wrists was cut, and he was free and left alone with the voice in the room. Behind him, the door shut with a dull bang.

"Please, sit down. I would like to talk with you," the man continued, having finally turned to face Arthur.

Even with sitting down, Arthur knew the man was tall. Slim and tall. His hair was a light blonde, with dark stubble lining his chin. His eyes were a piercing blue, not sky blue, but something smokier, and something… dark and betraying, but all locked behind a glimmer of happiness.

Arthur shouldered his things, hesitantly carrying himself to one of the two chairs before the desk. His own green eyes burned with caution. The feeling of safety, maybe of emptiness, had disappeared.

"What would you like to know?" Arthur asked softly, forcing his lips to move, to give away words he worried would go to waste.

"You are Arthur Kirkland. As young as you are, you are one excellent hacker, or so I've heard, yes? May I have this confirmed?" The man said.

That pricked alarm into his veins, the sunlight dancing in his eyes as he studied the man. He seemed familiar, now that he was actually in front of Arthur, and that Arthur had a chance to study him long enough. A faint sigh left his lips, and his gaze swept from the man to the floor and back again. "Who wants to know?"

"Ah, I see. My name is Francis Bonnefoy."

Oh, yes. The Francis Bonnefoy who was the leader of the Black Swans, which was a secretive hacking agency that was only known if you yourself were a hacker. But something else about him seemed familiar…

Arthur's teeth tightened into a clench, his fingertips digging into his legs from where they were settled on his lap. But he had gotten what he'd asked for. "… Yes."

"How _magnifique_!" Francis seemed to purr. Arthur narrowed his eyes, frozen with new realization.

Now it hit his memory like a bullet to the heart. Francis Bonnefoy could be placed somewhere in his childhood, though time and location and what he had been doing remained unknown. And he had been there one moment and gone the next.

Another sigh. "Next?" he grumbled.

"Fine, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Straight to the point, let's see…" he rummaged in a drawer to his left, his teasing smile wearing into a thin line. Francis took out a sheet of paper that was carefully rolled up and held together with a golden seal. He peeled the sticker, and the parchment rolled free. Arthur was looking at a picture of himself.

He squinted. "Wait_, wait a damn second_…! _What the hell is with the eyebrows_? Mine aren't _that_ bushy! Why am I looking at a _squirrel's tail_…?" Arthur's face scrunched up in disgust.

Francis gave it a glance, then to Arthur's eyebrows. "Yes, yes, yours _are_ thinner, a little less than a caterpillar, but I didn't kidnap you to discuss the details of your face and that of some drawing's."

"It's not some drawing; it's a Wanted poster!"

"Yes, of you, I know, I know. It's recent and that's a problem. We can't have a young hacker such as you get caught by the police. You have excellent skills, and it'd be a shame if they had to waste away behind bars." Francis explained.

"Nice to know you care," Arthur interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"Shush! Now, as I was saying. You won't make it out on the run like that. So, I will offer you this. If you agree to join the ranks of the Black Swans, I will supply you with the basics like food, shelter and protection, along with your own equipment. And a pay too, so you don't have to worry about any of that counterfeiting trash they do near your apartment."

Arthur cocked an eyebrow at that. He tried to weigh the consequences.

"So is it a deal?" Francis held out his hand.

Arthur stood, eyeing the other's hand thoughtfully. He shook.

* * *

><p>Arthur was settled on the mattress of his bed. It was clean and the blankets were fresh, the sheets crisp beneath his fingertips and the whole setup smelled of nice laundry detergent. It was a scent that hung in the air of his former little neighborhood, and stayed only for a single day. He gave a little sigh, laying down and pressing his face into the new pillow.<p>

After Francis and Arthur were done talking about him, the conversation had shifted to Francis.

Such as why they kidnapped him when they could have just shot Arthur an email or a letter in the mail. Francis told him that he believed Arthur would have run much sooner knowing that such a big society was now after him.

Why did they bind him? Francis didn't want any of his men injured because he knew Arthur had some knowledge of how to handle the knives he kept in reach.

Why him in the first place? Aside from the fact that Arthur was a wonderful hacker, he was a helpful one like those of the Black Swans. The police only wanted them gone because they believed it was throwing off the balance of the world. These hackers were doing their job.

Arthur had also asked Francis where he had gotten all of that information from, but Francis had simply smiled and held a slim finger to his lips to silence him. It was a secret.

And why was he so familiar? It seemed like such an odd question, so Arthur didn't ask.

It was only later that evening and Francis was taking him on a tour of the place. He led him to the work area, where several rows of tables were lined up, a table to each worker. Each table had a setup of a couple of computers each, and a tablet and a tangle of wires. There were colorful hard drives and the clicking of computer mice rang in his ears.

Francis was talking to him, but Arthur wasn't really paying attention. He was more interested in the environment he would be kept in for who knew how long than Francis' stupid accented voice, his green eyes darting with each mumble, each sip of coffee, each popup of a new informative tab on the bright screens.

"No, no…! Damnit!" snapped a man down the row closest to them.

"What is it, Dustin?" Francis called, blue eyes flickering to the man maintaining whatever task he had at hand. Francis and Arthur neared, as a few others did out of curiosity. Arthur watched this Dustin clicking and typing furiously, opening several tabs, the mouse on the screen fidgeting all over the place.

"I can't get the bidding closed, that son of a bitch is going to win," Dustin spat.

Suddenly, Arthur's fingers were itching to have the smooth keys under his touch, the glow of the computer igniting his green gaze as he hunted down the enemy. He glanced to Francis, who caught the look, and he believed he saw a small nod.

"Let me try," he offered in the heated silence, holding a hand out for his headphones.

"What? Are you crazy, rookie?" he snapped back at Arthur.

"This is Arthur Kirkland, Dustin. He joined only early this afternoon and I believe he would like to try what you cannot do." Francis advised, narrowing his eyes. "Hop on it now, give him your headphones."

Dustin stood up with a hiss, handing off what was his and stepping away. Arthur replaced him, putting on the headphones – though with what information he had managed to get out of a glance at the screen, wondered if they were really necessary.

Several clicks and he had closed several unneeded tabs, pausing to watch the tab showing live video feed.

"What the hell?" he questioned, disgust written across his face.

"You only have-!" "Shut the bidding down-!" "Bring that sick bastard-!" several voices erupted within the crowd, and Arthur rolled his shoulders, obviously annoyed.

"Everyone, for the love of God, please be quiet! He can't shut the bidding down to save those children if you're all howling in his ears." Francis snapped.

After a pause, Arthur finally started up his own flurry of hurried clicking and typing and mouse-fidgeting. A new tab opened up, and this was a clock counting down.

_00:30… 00:29… 00:28_

"Shit…" he cursed, picking up his pace until it seemed that one of the keys would fly off from such harsh tapping on the keyboard.

_00:15… 00:14… 00:13_

The child on the screen tumbled to another corner in the room, still in sight of the camera in the room that had been hacked into earlier. The chat box somewhat below it exploded with another series of bids and comments.

_00:04… 00:03… 00:03… 00:03_

A deep sigh hit the air around him as the timer froze up. The video feed gave out, becoming a blizzard of black and white. But Arthur was still typing.

"What are you doing?" Dustin asked, Francis nodding in agreement as the group cleared.

Arthur removed the headphones, sitting them on their stand, much like how he would with his guitar and suddenly a pit of longing opened up in his stomach, and turned to face them. "Three, two, one and whoever the hell decided to sell those children should be having a meltdown over his network going up in flames and discovering that the police will be arriving in the matter of a minute or two. I see that my work here is done,"

And with that, he walked back to his room.

* * *

><p>It had already a year since Arthur agreed to be a part of the Black Swans, since the police and all news networks decided that he had disappeared off the face of the Earth and let the Wanted posters grow old.<p>

It had been two months since Arthur kind of admitted to himself that he was in love. And what a torturous two months since it was Francis Bonnefoy that Arthur kind of found himself in love with.

And what did it exactly mean when Arthur and Francis were lying awake in Francis' bed at one in the morning?

"_Okay," Arthur had breathed out to his reflection of bags under eyes and messy hair trapped in the bathroom mirror._ That was back to the first time it had happened. _"Maybe he's… in love with me too?"_

It would be okay, wouldn't it? Francis was only four years older than him. Seventeen and twenty-one… And who was there to tell them different? None of the other men within the Black Swans gave a damn, and the Black Swans was too secretive for the public to know.

Only the next night, when Arthur was ready to retire from his table beside Dustin for bed, when he was one of the last few in the room, did Francis approach him and kiss him.

* * *

><p>Maybe the day would have started out peaceful, but Arthur would never know. The sky was just becoming light and littered with stars as Francis shook him awake. The man was dressed in a button-up shirt, it was a light blue-gray and he had tied his hair back. His blue eyes were bright and glittering, and maybe his lips were moving to form Arthur's name again, but Arthur only wanted to sleep.<p>

Francis cursed, or so he thought, and picked Arthur up, blanket and all. This startled Arthur into a swearing fit of his own, but it was muffled out by Francis' shoulder as he was placed on his bare feet and held closely to the other's body.

"We must leave, please hurry and pack. Meet me in the basement, and get in the car."

Arthur was about to ask why, but Francis had gone and Arthur only found out when he actually arrived with his few things that there was only one car left to take. Its red lights glowed brightly in the dim, dusty light of the basement, and Francis was waiting inside.

He hurried over, the blanket he refused to let leave his shoulders held tightly to him. Arthur tossed his things in the back with Francis', getting in the front and wrapping the blanket around himself. They left using the back.

After an amount of silence that felt as though it had dragged on for years, Arthur finally voiced his scattered thoughts. "What happened to everyone else?"

Francis' knuckles were white from where he held the steering wheel, bringing the car forward onto an empty, winding road. The sky was a dull blue, the ground a sandy tan, their car black on the twisting ash gray road.

"Well?" Arthur demanded.

"Dead or gone, depending on which way they left the place."

"Oh, thanks, that clears up the whole situation for me." Arthur huddled into his blanket, glaring at Francis before looking out the window and resting his head against the frame.

"It means exactly what it means, Arthur. Someone, something, screwed up and the police know where we are. _Where you are._ You know they want our heads, so we deserted the place. The estimated time of arrival for the police was a minute or so ago, but we've already been driving for an hour so…."

"So we'll be safe?" Arthur suggested.

"… Yeah, we'll be safe." Francis murmured, reaching out with his hand to take Arthur's. They settled their clasped hands between them on the arm rest that jingled with spare change underneath if they ever encountered a slight bump in the road.

* * *

><p>They had been going for about a week, managing their way through land that was either poorly populated or empty altogether. The sun was shining through thick clouds, and the black car sped along.<p>

"There's… something I should tell you," Francis murmured when Arthur had woken up, sounding like he had been up for a while. He bit his lip as he started the car up and began driving.

Arthur hummed in return, opening his window a crack to breathe in the smell of the ocean. At Francis' hesitation, he glanced over with a raised brow.

"I know you… recognize me. I read your notebook, and all of the entries of trying to remember your childhood, and how you think I was in it, but you don't know anything else besides that. And, well…" Francis began, his blue gaze shifting for any place but at Arthur.

"_What?_" Arthur hissed, freezing up. "_Why would you do that? I trusted you!_" he spat.

"And… I might have… killed your parents?"

Arthur could feel his eyes stinging, his mind reaching into the black depth that was his childhood. He could see a fuzzy photograph, the outlines of a family portrait. He couldn't make out the faces, and it just made him uncomfortable. "'Please, stop the car." He whispered.

"No, I think you need to hear this."

"_Francis!_"

"I didn't mean to kill your parents, you have to know that. I was eight and you were four, we were neighbors and I lived across the street from your family, but I wasn't allowed to see you. I was raised by my father who was after the fortune your parents were bringing in. He trained me to go after them, but I couldn't do it like that. I told them what I was being forced to do and they just… they understood. They didn't care as long as you were safe. After that, I ran away. I was taken in just as I took you in." Francis explained with his voice fast and the words slamming into Arthur's chest like _bang, bang, bang_ until he could barely breathe.

"Francis, stop the car_, please_."

He did.

Arthur got out and walked off. He was all sweatpants and baggy shirt, messy hair caught in the breeze. He had his hands clasped upon his head, tears dripping from his chin, chest tight and feeling crushed. Why did Francis never tell him? Why hide it? Did he honestly feel that it wasn't important until then? God, he felt sick…

"Arthur…" a hand rested lightly on his shoulder.

Arthur whipped around, alive with anger. There was a sound crack of noise as his hand swept across Francis' face.

Francis looked down, his blue eyes dark. "I deserve that. And I deserve to go unforgiven for what I did." He murmured.

"Of course you do." Arthur hissed lowly. _You had the choice to say no, Francis…_

"But I want you to know that if I could go back and change what I did, I would."

"Even if it meant… never meeting me?" Arthur forced out.

"I feel like… I would have met you no matter what." Francis replied, taking Arthur's hands where they were now hanging at his sides. Francis pressed a kiss to his knuckles, but he pulled away.

"… I need to be alone." Arthur murmured.

It was risky, they had to keep going until that feeling that made his spine tingle and stomach twist had disappeared… Francis gave him a small, warm smile. "Of course, please don't be long."

And they split up.

* * *

><p>It had already been thirty minutes, and Arthur was considering going back. He had discovered they were actually very close to the ocean, and had settled upon the edge of the cliff to think and clear his head. He had done so, and felt ready to return to Francis and forgive him.<p>

Really, Francis hadn't planned on taking in the son of the parents he had killed so long ago. Arthur didn't know the man behind the plan of kidnapping him would spring recognition into his earlier, fuzzy memories.

They didn't plan on falling in love.

Arthur stood up, and turned to head back. Just as he was ready to walk back, he heard the noise of something slipping. He paused, and even the wind fell lighter so he could see if it could be heard again. Several silent minutes, and it happened again. There was a soft, muffled noise, like someone was speaking with a-

_Run! Run, Arthur, run!_

Francis was pushed out from behind a boulder, a cop trailing behind him. Arthur didn't care and ran for Francis. He wrapped his arms around his neck, almost toppling them back as he tackled him for a kiss. It was just as he met Francis, though, and meet his lips, did a bullet rip into Arthur's side.

He hung onto Francis, dragging down towards the ground, but he was held up. Francis pecked his forehead.

"You're okay, you're okay…" he whispered.

Two policemen tore them apartment, one holding Arthur back and the other leading Francis to the cliff. Despite the shock and pain still running through his system, Arthur could feel the crisp, cold feeling of horror joining it. They were going to have Francis die and Arthur rot behind bars. "No, no! No! Damnit, please! No, you don't have to do this! You _can't_ do this!" he shouted, struggling to get free.

The man let Francis go, staying the distance between the cliff and Arthur. Francis would go alone from there.

"I'm sorry, my love," Francis called, keeping himself from turning around. "But they want me more than you. After all, you didn't kill a family…"

It all happened too quickly.

Francis stood at the very edge of the cliff. Arthur gave a well-placed kick to the man holding him and broke free. Arthur ran for Francis, avoiding the policemen and going straight for the man they were ready to kill. They both fell over the cliff.

But Arthur held on, as did Francis. Arthur's hand gripped the edge of the cliff, and he held onto Francis' hand.

"Francis…" Arthur whispered.

"… Yeah?"

"Please don't let go."

"I won't."

Arthur thought about trying to sling Francis up onto land, but knew he would have to let go then. And if Francis had the nerve to let go, would he drop into the ocean or try for another rock to hold onto? They hung for several minutes, Arthur's grip becoming dusty and sweaty and he was trying hard to keep hanging on despite feeling like he would rip in half from the bullet wound.

Below them the ocean rumbled, and the police cars buzzed away. They had assumed that the two of them had fallen to their deaths.

"… Hey Francis?"

"What, Arthur?"

"I love you."

"… _Je t'aime aussi_." He smiled warmly up at Arthur.

With a sigh, Arthur let go, where they fell downward together in each other's arms. Maybe there had been a shared kiss, but that had been quick too. The water filled and burned their lungs as they disappeared into the sunset-colored water.

* * *

><p><strong>AN - 9 pages of my insanity lol so, here ya go and enjoy. Big thanks to one of my best friends! I told her the idea and how it needed an ending to which she provided me this and we couldn't stop laughing about how they fall to their deaths. What other tragic ideas will we find ourselves laughing about during gym? ^w^**

**If there are any errors, please tell me! Reviews would be very nice too! :3**


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